


Be Not Afraid

by Phloxglove



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: ADHD Ella Lopez, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Deckerstar - Freeform, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i have barely any idea how to tag stuff on here i have never posted on ao3 before, right now it’s mostly hurt but there will be comfort one day i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26643268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phloxglove/pseuds/Phloxglove
Summary: Michael attempts to make amends and Ella attempts to get back to normal after everything that’s happened.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Ella Lopez/Michael
Comments: 34
Kudos: 116





	1. Chapter 1

When Michael first met Ella Lopez she was full of passion. Anger and joy worn plainly on her sleeve. The fear he read was obvious and understandable. His brother had abandoned her without so much as a goodbye, after all. 

She had other fears, too, but he didn’t get a chance to dig into them, and he truly didn’t feel the need to at the time. They didn’t have anything to do with Lucifer as far as he could tell, so they were unlikely to be useful in his impersonation. 

Now, standing outside her apartment door, he could feel them emanating off of her so strongly it almost made him nauseous from overstimulation. All he did was knock!

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose and scowled. All this for a stupid apology. He didn’t even hurt her directly. But Linda had insisted on “making amends”, which apparently meant introducing Ella to a pain for which she could never have real context and then bandaging it with a drug store apology card. 

The card alone seemed pathetic, and doomed to be recycled as soon as he left her line of sight, so he picked up a small bouquet from the corner grocery on his way over. This way, once she rejected his apology and tossed the card, she could at least get something nice out of the whole ordeal. Or, sort of nice. If they survived the trip in his messenger bag. 

“Who is it?” asked a hoarse, subdued voice from beyond the door. 

“It’s Michael. Lucifer’s brother. Linda sent me.” 

He heard several chains and locks being undone before the door cracked open. 

Ella peered out, looking as bad as the fear he felt from her suggested she might. Her hair was pulled back into a tangled low ponytail. Her uncharacteristically plain t-shirt had what looked (and smelled) like a recent food stain on it. Her bloodshot eyes had dark bags under them so large they nearly swept across her cheek. 

She looked Michael up and down, squinting. 

“Why?” 

He shrugged his left shoulder. “The doc seems to think I need to be the one to catch you up. I tried to meet you at the precinct, but you weren’t there.” 

She looked away. 

Michael smirked. “Hey, I’m not here to stop you playing hooky. I couldn’t care less.” He watched her turn red, and couldn’t stop himself from pushing her. “Your work buddies seemed pretty worried about you, though. When’s the last time you talked to them?” 

Anger flashed across her face for a second, familiar territory for him, and disappeared just as quickly. 

“You said Linda sent you?” 

“That I did.” 

Ella sighed deeply, pressing her forehead against the doorframe. He could hear her fingers drumming against the wall. 

Then, she leaned back and pulled the door open all the way. 

“Come on in.”

-

Her apartment looked like the dealer’s den at a convention had a conceptual child with a Catholic school dorm. There was not a single flat surface unadorned with statuettes of some kind, be they superhero, magical girl, or saint. 

There were a few empty spaces in her bookshelf that left behind dust rings in the shape of whatever used to live there, and one rectangle of paint on the living room wall that was slightly brighter than the rest, as though a poster had recently been taken down, but other than that, it was jam-packed. 

It made Michael feel itchy for some reason. 

“Just sit wherever.” Ella gestured vaguely, then walked to the kitchen across the way. “You want something to drink?” 

Michael declined, electing to perch on the armrest of a chair that currently housed a small mountain of laundry. 

“You sure? We got water, OJ, coke,” She grunted as she uncorked a large bottle. “Tequila.”

He scoffed. “It’s not even noon.” 

She poured herself a large glass. “Suit yourself, man.” 

“I can see why you and Lucifer get along so well.” 

She looked at Michael as though she wanted to be annoyed, but couldn’t quite bring herself to care. 

She walked over to the couch opposite his seat and plopped down, tequila sloshing precariously in its glass as she did. After a long sip, she spoke. 

“About Lucifer: what, exactly, the fuck, is going on with you guys? He filled me in on the basics. You’re twins, you hate each other, you pretended to be him.” Another long sip. “What I don’t get is why?” 

Michael smirked. “Why we’re twins, why we hate each other, or why I pretended to be him?” 

“Don’t be shitty, c’mon.” 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “Alrighty then. Story time. You know how he left you without any kind of notice?” 

She winced, and he continued, undeterred. 

“Well, he was out fulfilling an obligation to our family that he had been ignoring for years. Thing is, once he started actually doing his Goddamned job, all my siblings start fawning over him, as if he wasn’t also the guy that abandoned the post to begin with. Pissed me off, big time.

“Lucifer is a lot of things, but he’s never been responsible. Never. I needed them to remember that. So, I came up with a plan. Take his place back here, see where his priorities really lie.” A savage smile took over his face. “Turns out, I was right. He came running back here as soon as he heard. Leaving the rest of the family in the lurch. Again.” 

Suddenly, a flip-flop to the face silenced his speech. Startled, Michael looked at the woman who threw it. 

It was the closest he had seen Ella look to the day he first met her. Through the whole visit so far, her eyes had been distant, almost dim. Now, they were focused on him, sharp, dangerous, and filled with righteous fury. 

Her voice was nothing like that first day, however. It had been frantic and raw. Now, it was steady and low. 

“You stole Lucifer’s life for that?” 

“...yes?” 

That was the wrong answer, according to the other flip-flop he narrowly dodged. 

“Can you please quit throwing your shoes at me? I’m trying to have a conversation here.” 

“You weren’t trying to have a conversation! You were gloating, _cabrón_! You’re lucky it was my shoe and not my glass.” She took a swig and slammed it on the table between them. 

Linda was not going to be happy with him. He came here to fix things.

“Look, I know you’re upset. You have every right to be.” He put his hands out as if in surrender. 

“You’re damn right about that. I’m not just mad on Lucifer’s behalf, you know.” 

“I know...”

Michael groaned, pressing his palms against his brow. 

“Damn it, you know this was supposed to be an apology?” He asked, equal parts annoyed and resigned. 

Ella laughed mirthlessly. “A really shitty one so far.” 

“Yeah, well- ah!” Michael snapped his fingers. “I brought you something, actually. Supposed to help with the whole you-forgiving-me thing.” 

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a bent envelope and a handful of worse-for-wear daffodils wrapped in white wax paper. 

As soon as Ella saw the flowers, Michael was struck with an oppressive wave of dread flowing from her. 

“Easy,” he murmured. “you’re safe.” 

Her eyes stayed fixed on the bouquet. His own followed her gaze. 

“Want me to get rid of these?” he asked quietly, holding up the offending blooms. 

Ella nodded. “Please.” she whispered. 

He stood and looked towards the kitchen. “You got a garbage disposal?” 

She nodded again. 

The apartment was completely silent, save for Michael’s shoes against the laminate as he walked to the sink. The disposal sounded harsh and loud in the still air. He crumpled the wax paper and tossed it in the wastebasket by the door before returning to his makeshift seat. 

Neither one of them spoke. Michael felt flashes of Ella’s memory rush through his mind. A purple light, a back-room greenhouse, a weight on her chest. Gasping for breath. 

He studied the small, fragile human sitting across from him. She sat with her legs curled against her chest, chin resting on her knees, wide brown eyes staring unfocused at the rug. This fierce, strange little woman, the one who loved his brother and his brother’s Miracle more than anything he’d ever seen, was nearly killed. 

“Is the fucker in jail now?” he finally asked. 

She blinked and looked up. 

Michael gripped the fabric of his trousers to keep his voice calm. “Whatever son of a bitch left you like this. Skipping work and scared of plants. Is he in jail now?” 

She nodded. “How’d you know it was a guy?” 

There was that curiosity of hers that caused him so much trouble when he first came to town. Proceed with caution. 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Lucky guess. Also, y’know. Statistics. About 75% of the most evil pieces of shit on Earth are men. You oughta know; you catch them for a living.” 

She snorted, and it felt like victory. 

“Fair enough.” she replied with a small smile. “Men are the worst, scientifically.” 

He grinned. 

She began to unfold herself, and pointed to the envelope Michael left on the coffee table. “Speaking of men being the worst, weren’t you trying to apologize?” 

He leaned forward to pick up the envelope and tossed it like a shuriken to the spot next to Ella on the couch. 

“Open it.” he prompted. 

Inside, there was a card with a photo of a basset hound puppy looking mournfully up at Ella. She flipped it open. 

_Ms. Lopez,_

_I didn’t mean to hurt you.  
It won’t happen again. _

_-Michael_

She closed the card and failed to suppress a smile at the sight of the cheesy picture on front. 

“So... what do you say?” Michael asked. He put on his most sincere expression, which despite his best efforts never looked genuine. 

Ella narrowed her eyes at him. “You know you haven’t actually said the actual words ‘I’m sorry’, right? Can’t accept your apology until you actually make one.” 

At this, he groaned dramatically. “Fine. Fine, fine, fine, fine.” He breathed in deeply. “I’m sorry. Happy?” 

Ella sprung off the couch and marched over. Before the last syllable left his lips, he found himself wrapped in a surprisingly strong embrace. 

_Huh._

“Apology accepted.”


	2. Chapter 2

Michael rarely felt the need to seek forgiveness, and as such, didn’t receive it often. It annoyed him, frankly, that the first time it happened in millions of years, it came from Ms. Lopez. She was tangential to his initial plan, at best. Now, thanks to good old Pops and His newly appointed mortal underling Dr. Linda Martin, he was closer to the woman than he ever wanted to be. 

She trusted him far too quickly. There was clearly something wrong with her. 

As evidenced by the fact that she invited him to stay for lunch. Though, Michael wasn’t really sure if microwave egg rolls and jelly beans counted as lunch. It had been a few years since he had a meal on Earth, but he remembered it tasting more like actual food last time. Why had he agreed to this? 

He sat on the far right seat of the couch, near the window. Ella sat far left. The bag of jelly beans sat between them. 

She flipped through Netflix with a bored expression. “Anything in particular you wanna watch?” she asked, mouth half-full. 

Michael did his best to keep his disgust hidden. “I truly could not give less of a shit.” 

“Not a big tv guy?” 

“Not especially.” 

“Okay, well,” She turned to face him. “what kind of stuff _do_ you watch? I don’t want to pick something you’ll hate.” 

Most human entertainment seemed equally inane to Michael, but there were a few things that managed to catch his interest. 

“I don’t watch much of anything, but I like Agatha Christie, Steven King, Helen Oyeyemi. What’s-his-name. The cockroach guy.” 

“Kafka?” she guessed. 

He snapped his fingers. “That’s the one.” 

Ella hummed thoughtfully as she grabbed another handful of jelly beans. “So basically, weird and/or spooky.” she summarized. 

He rolled his eyes. “If you want to be reductive about it, then sure.” 

She laughed, which annoyed him even more. “Hey man, I’m not judging. You do you. I just can’t deal with all that psychological horror and suspense stuff. Gimme a chainsaw massacre any day.” 

“Don’t you get enough of that at your job?” 

A pained look crossed her face for a moment, before being replaced with a conspiratorial grin. 

“You know those movies are actually why I got into forensics in the first place?” 

Michael crossed his legs, put his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, a caricature of active listening. “You don’t say?” 

Ella either didn’t pick up on his sarcasm, or chose to ignore it. 

“Yeah! My friend and I got super into those classic slashers when I was a freshman in high school. She was already basically an expert on weird deaths, so I kept bugging her to tell me how all of it worked. Like, oh!” She clapped. “Like, if you get your hand chopped off and your bod slathered in honey what would actually happen to you? And my friend would be like, well, you’d bleed out way before bees would even bother with you. Maybe flies, but not bees. And actually, you probably wouldn’t even die. It was so cool!” 

God, this human was an enigma. She cowered at the sight of a bouquet, but looked more excited than he had ever seen her describing gruesome dismemberment. Her hands practically danced as she spoke. Why didn’t this trigger her? Michael pushed down his urge to read deeper. Sleeping dogs and all. Best to steer clear of that topic altogether.

“I know I said I didn’t care, but maybe something less murder-y, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Oh my gosh, of course! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to go off like that. No sane person likes hearing about this stuff.” Ella replied quickly. 

Ah, self-consciousness. Such a common anxiety that Michael normally tuned it out entirely, like white noise. 

He shook his head. “I don’t mind. I just thought maybe since we’re eating, and also since it’s like, 11:30 in the morning.” 

Reassurances were never his strong suit. 

“Totally. Totally get it. What about...” She clicked her tongue. “reality shows? Those are fun! You ever see 90 Day Fiancé?” 

He made a face and shuddered. 

She grinned sheepishly. “Okay, maybe not that one, then.” 

“Definitely not.” 

After a few minutes of scrolling, they settled on some kind of dessert-making competition with an exuberant host that Ella loved and Michael tolerated. 

They ate their egg rolls together in peace. Occasionally, Michael would offer his most insightful commentary. 

“How come these clowns never use their panic buttons? There’s an actual professional there literally just to tell them what to do, and they all go ‘Nah, me and my stand mixer I just learned how to use this morning got this in the bag!’ Are you sure about that one, buddy? ‘Cause I watched you melt a measuring cup earlier.” 

Ella laughed, loud and bright. She seemed much more at ease now. Her legs stretched to rest on the coffee table, which forced her to slouch against the backrest in order for her short body to reach. The awkward angle gave her a slight double-chin when she faced the tv. She looked happier like this, he thought. 

She was still laughing a little as she spoke. “I think they probably look for people like that on purpose. I mean, if they do too well, it sort of defeats the point.” 

Michael snorted. “It’s reality tv. By its very nature, there is no point.” 

“Rude!” She tried to sound incredulous. 

“You know I’m right.” he teased. 

Ella opted to blow a raspberry rather than respond with adult human words. It surprised him. 

“I’m sorry, are you a toddler?” 

“Ppppbbbth!” she repeated emphatically.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.” Then, he looked back to the show. One of the contestants was confidently pouring five times the amount of artificial flavoring called for in the recipe. “Unbelievable!! She’s- what the hell is she doing? That’s maybe the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen!” 

This cracked Ella up all over again, which in turn drew a smile out of Michael. Before he could begin another culinary rant, the muffled sounds of “Dynamite” by Taio Cruz playing interrupted his train of thought. 

Ella sat up and pulled her phone out from her back pocket. Sighing, she paused the show. 

“It’s Chloe.” she announced in a flat tone. 

“You should answer it. She’s probably worried sick about you.” he suggested. The trouble with lying as often as Michael did, was that his concern sounded the same as his taunting. 

Ella’s jaw tightened. “I don’t want her pity.” 

“You probably have it anyway.” he replied, matter-of-fact.

She scowled at him. Her eyes were threatening to cry. 

“Okay, think about it this way: if you answer now, she might stop calling you for a bit. I get the sense this isn’t the first time.” Michael tried. 

She slumped back down and glared her phone as though if she thought about it hard enough, it would disappear. The song continued for a another 30 seconds, a bizarre accompaniment to her distress, before stopping mid-chorus. She let the phone fall face-down on her stomach before reaching for the tv remote. 

Michael grabbed it first. 

“Shouldn’t you at least listen to the message?” 

“Why do you care, man?” she asked, sounding at once both irritated and genuinely curious. 

His brain stalled. Why did he care? It would have been so easy to leave at literally any time. He completed his objective. He did enough to placate Linda, and hopefully Dad as well. Ella Lopez forgave him. He should have moved on and apologized to the next person on the list. 

Michael guessed he could chalk it up to procrastination. After all, Daniel was next, and that motherfucker had a lot to unpack. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. 

“I-“ he started. “I have no idea. I just do.” 

She studied his face, and it made him flush uncomfortably. After what felt like far too long, she looked back to the phone resting on her stomach before picking it up, typing her PIN, and tapping her voicemail. 

_“Damn it. Sorry. Hi, Ella. Listen, I know you’re having a rough time right now, and I’m here if you need to talk, okay? I can’t imagine how you must be feeling, but I need you to know you’re not alone.”_

Another extremely familiar voice chimed in. 

_“Yes, the Detective and I are here for you if you need anything. Oh, and please call me back about the revenge plan I texted you last week! I won’t do anything without your express approval, but my associate Mr. Abrams informs me that he finished constructing his shiv earlier this morning.”_

_“Lucifer! You are not going to arrange a prison stabbing!”_

_“No of course not, not without Ms. Lopez’s say-so.”_

_“What? No, I meant- you know what, actually, we’ll talk about this later. Sorry about that, Ella. We all miss you, and we’re ready for you to come back whenever you feel the time is right. We love you.”_

_“Indeed. Please process your trauma as quickly as possible so that we can be reunited!”_

_“Oh my God. Take your time. I have to go. I’ll call you again tomorrow. Alright, bye.”_

Michael looked over at Ella, and was was startled to see her swallowing back a sob. Her shoulders were shaking; her breath was coming fast and uneven. 

“Ella...” 

She whimpered something he couldn’t make out.

“What was that?”

“Please. Please leave. I’m sorry.” Her voice was small and brittle. It hurt to listen to. 

Michael stood and hesitated.

“Please.” she begged.

He nodded, grabbed his bag, and walked to the door. “Okay.” 

When he shut the door from the hall, he felt the reverberations in his chest long after the sound faded away.


	3. Chapter 3

“You have to talk to Ella.” Michael demanded as he strode into Linda’s office later that afternoon.

She looked up from the pile of paperwork on her desk. “I thought I locked that.” 

“Didn’t feel like it.” he lied. “Anyway, you have to talk to Ella. She trusts you, right?” 

Linda sighed and put down her pen. “I suppose now is as good a time as any for your appointment.” She stood up and motioned for Michael to have a seat on the couch before taking her usual place. “Why do you want to me talk to Ella?” 

He sat on the edge of the cushion, elbows braced on his knees. “Because she’s upset. And she’s your friend, not mine. It’s not my job to fix whatever she’s got going on. You, on the other hand, pick brains for a living.” 

Linda tilted her head. “What makes you say she’s upset?” 

Michael raised an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you saw her in person? It’s pretty obvious, Doc.” 

“It’s been about a week.” Linda admitted. 

“In other words,” he began, “not since Dad came to visit.” 

“No... No, but in my defense, I’m now seeing you and Amenadiel in addition to Lucifer. Normally that would be conflict of interest, but I’m considering this to be an exceptional circumstance. Not to mention your upcoming family session on Saturday. Your father has been keeping me pretty busy.” she said, then hastily added, “Not that I’m complaining!” 

Michael sensed guilt about Ella mixed with a fear of God so visceral it reminded him of the early days. Only one of those feelings would be helpful. 

“Relax. Dad likes you. You’re one of the good ones.” 

“Really?” she asked, in awe. 

He managed not to smirk. “Yep. Real hall-of-famer. If we could please get back to the actual issue here?” 

Linda shook herself, resetting. “Right. Sorry.” Her posture shifted as she returned to therapist mode. “What do you think is causing Ella to feel this way? Did she accept your apology?” 

“Yeah, that went fine.” Michael tapped his chin. “I don’t know. I think, and this is just a shot in the dark, but I think it might have something to do with that serial killer she was seeing until very recently.” 

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Not exactly. But like I said, it’s pretty obvious.” 

Linda regarded him suspiciously. “Did you use your mojo on her?” 

“For the love of Dad, please don’t call it that. And, yeah, but it’s not like I can help it! You humans don’t suppress your fears nearly as well as you suppress your desires.” he huffed. 

“Oh believe me, I know.” She cleared her throat. “How... how is she, really? You said upset. Upset in what way?” 

“She was crying when I left.” 

“What?! What did you say to her?” 

“Nothing! Calm down! I just said that she should talk to Decker, since she’s probably worried about her.” he replied defensively. “You were the one going on about how people should reach out to each other in times of crisis.” 

“Under most circumstances, that’s good advice. But trauma isn’t most circumstances. It changes your brain’s response to things that used to be normal for you. She probably feels overwhelmed.” 

He nodded. “She definitely does.” 

“Right, yes. The whole m- mmmmagic feelings thingy.” 

Michael groaned. “You did not stick the landing on that one, Doc. If it’s between mojo and magic feelings thingy, I prefer the former.” 

“Noted.”

“And anyway,” he continued. “I didn’t come here to psychoanalyze Ella. I came to ask you to do it.” 

Linda smiled sadly. “As much as I would love to help her, she needs to want the help. Otherwise we’d both be spinning our wheels. It doesn’t sound like she’s ready to open up yet. It has to be in her own time.” 

“You sound like Decker.” he scoffed. 

“Well, we both want what’s best for Ella.” she responded. “We care about her.” She gave Michael a sympathetic look that made him feel pinned to the couch like an insect. “It sounds like you’re starting to care about her, too.” 

He laughed, but his shoulders tensed. “What gave you that idea?” 

“Michael, you came barging into my office two days before your scheduled appointment asking me to talk to her after you saw her crying.” she said patiently. 

“That doesn’t mean I care about her. Maybe I just wanted you to know her breakdown wasn’t my fault.” 

“I wouldn’t have even known about the breakdown if you hadn’t told me. Thank you for telling me, by the way. I don’t necessarily approve, but I appreciate it.” 

Linda looked at Michael with gratitude in her eyes. It made him want to escape. He stood up abruptly, made his way to the door, and began to open it.

“Michael, wait!” Linda called. 

He stilled, but didn’t turn to face her. 

“What you’re going through, you’re not the first one. Lucifer and Amenadiel both struggled to find their place on Earth. Struggled to maintain their relationships with humans. It’s difficult, but it’s not impossible. Please don’t give up before you’ve even started.” she pleaded. 

Michael made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and closed the door behind him. 

-

In the rush of solving multiple murders, being kidnapped by her lover’s evil twin, being rescued by said lover, reaffirming her feelings for him, and meeting his Father, the Almighty Creator of the Universe, a few things had slipped through the cracks for Chloe Decker. Checking in on Ella, for one. Lucifer kept assuring her it was completely understandable, and she would never fault her, but Chloe still felt like a bad friend. 

Especially because Ella hadn’t returned any of her calls. Not even a text. It was deeply alarming, and so out of character. Guilt persisted, and her dad always said the antidote to guilt was action. 

So, Chloe worked as hard as she could to get the precinct ready for their favorite forensic scientist’s return. She got permission to use one of the interrogation rooms as a temporary lab/office, in case Ella didn’t want any extra attention, and she decorated the original lab in well wishes and compliments on neon sticky notes in case she did. 

She called her once a day, every day to check in. Sometimes she would talk about the newest season of the crime-fighting princess cartoon Trixie and Ella both loved. Sometimes she would talk about a cute baby goat video she came across online. Often, she would talk about how badly they all missed her and how much she meant to them. Most of the time, she felt completely lost.

That was how it felt today. 

“I’ll call you again tomorrow. Alright, bye.” She hung up the phone, then sighed heavily before turning to Lucifer. “You know it’s gonna take longer than a week for things to get back to normal, right?” 

“I know.” he replied, solemnly. “I just wish there was something we could do.” 

Chloe cupped his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “We just need to be patient.” 

He smiled at her fondly. Then, much to her chagrin, an idea lit up his face. 

“Or, perhaps not.” 

“Or perhaps yes?” 

“No, detective, don’t you see? I’ve got the perfect replacement forensic scientist on heavenly call!” He grinned, folded his hands, and closed his eyes. 

Chloe smacked his hands apart. “Will you stop that?” she hissed. “We are not trying to replace anyone!” 

“Right. Naturally. A temp, then. Besides, I’m not sure Rae-Rae knows all the technical jargon.” he mused. 

“What are you taking about? Who is Rae-Rae?” 

Suddenly, a small brown-skinned woman with short black hair, dark eyes, and an oversized novelty t-shirt tucked into a denim skort appeared behind Lucifer and waved shyly. 

“Hiya Lu.”

Chloe stared, stunned. 

“Ah! Sister, how nice of you to meet with us. Azrael, Chloe. Chloe, Azrael.” He gestured between the two. 

“Nice to officially meet you, Chloe! You can call me Rae-Rae.” Azrael strode past her brother and stuck out her hand to shake. 

Slowly, Chloe reciprocated. 

Lucifer clapped her on the shoulder affectionately. “No need to worry, darling. My little sister here doesn’t pose any threat. Well, not for another 60 years or so, ideally.” 

Azrael nodded. “Yep. No reaping here tonight.” 

Chloe’s eyes widened. “Reaping? You’re- are, are you the Grim Reaper?” 

The celestials laughed. 

“Not quite.” she said, adjusting her glasses. “I don’t decide when or where or how someone dies. That part’s all Dad. I just sorta pick them up and take them wherever they’re headed. Well, me and like a ginormous envoy. I haven’t been able to go solo in a while.” 

Chloe rubbed her temples. “Okay. Okay, so you’re the angel of death?” 

Lucifer and Azrael nodded.

“Fantastic. So, um.” She turned to Lucifer. “Why did you call her, exactly?” 

He beamed. “For Ella, of course!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa a b-plot! Also some mild edits, as I accidentally uploaded an earlier draft.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally haven’t written proper fanfiction in a little over half a decade, so please be approximately 40% nicer to me than you would normally.


End file.
